


flutter

by canvases (oilpaints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Magic Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpaints/pseuds/canvases
Summary: “I was told,” Tendou says, “that only those who are pure of heart can attract butterflies.”





	

The path to the gym is winding, but Semi’s walked it hundreds of times before.

The grass stalks smell fresh and sway in a windsong. He shifts the strap of his sports bag on his shoulder, and crosses the walkway in hurried strides, past bright-eyed first years and hydrangeas glistening with morning dew.

A gust of wind knocks his dangling keychain against his elbow, and the pearly-white swan feather flutters to life.

“Semi-kun!”

He whips his head to spot one of his classmates waving at him. He grins back and calls out a _hey!_ before carrying on towards the gym.

 _Crap, coach is gonna kill me,_ he thinks, and then -

Stops in his tracks.

Under the cherry blossoms, a boy stands still, surrounded by a flock of butterflies. They dance around him languidly, beating their wings in a graceful ballet.

It’s like something straight from a page of a fairytale, and Semi can’t seem to close the book.

The boy’s laugh is a quiet thing, but it twinkles like a windchime, and resonates in the clear blue skies.

“I’m going to be late, hey, come on, stop that - ”

 _Crap,_ Semi thinks, startling when his feather keychain tickles his arm, and breaking out into a sprint. _Coach is gonna kill me._

The air still tastes like spring, and when a dandelion seed floats by, Semi chases after it.

 

* * *

  

“Close call, Eita-kun,” Tendou chuckles, nudging him with his elbow. “I’m glad you could come and join us.”

“Shut your face, Satori,” Semi hisses between his teeth. “You messed with my alarm.”

Tendou, _the asshole_ , throws his head back and laughs, strawberry freckles trailing down his neck. “It’s only customary to start the year by pranking my _darling_ roommate,” he croons. “You made it on time, though, so no harm, no foul!”

“No thanks to you,” Semi mutters under his breath, smoothing out the ruffles in his feather keychain.

Tendou just winks.

Semi sighs and goes back to handing out club flyers, ignoring Tendou’s enthusiastic babbling and laughter behind him.

“Excuse me - these forms are for the volleyball club, right?”

Semi glances up to meet a pair of muted eyes and blinks.

A butterfly lands on the boy’s immaculate hair - _honestly,_ how in the world are his bangs so _straight_? - and Semi is jolted out of his reverie by a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he says, mustering up what he hopes can pass for an encouraging smile. He hands the kid one of the forms, the paper rustling. “Here, just fill everything out and come during tryouts.”

Tendou starts gushing about their wonder ace in the background.

The boy, idly twirling his hair glances up with mild interest, and the butterfly resting on his shoulder beats it’s wings and flies off.

“Here, senpai,” he murmurs, pressing the sheet into Semi’s hand with a curt nod. A butterfly with white lace looping it’s black wings nestles into the crook of his neck, and he walks away, unbothered.

Semi absently wonders how this kid’s handwriting is so neat despite the fact that he’d filled the form against the courtyard’s scratchy brick walls until another student calls for his attention.

He plucks a peach-pink, sweet-smelling petal from his hair, and forgets for a while.

  

* * *

 

 _A while,_ as it turns out, isn’t very long.

Semi forgets his name but remembers his neat handwriting, and sees him enter the gym with a monarch butterfly with citrus-coloured wings trailing behind him - the kind that you’d care for in an old jam jar then set free hours later.

He introduces himself with the words _Shirabu Kenjirou,_  and _setter,_ and Semi arches an eyebrow in interest.

Tendou hums cheerily all the way back to the dorms, straying from the gravel path and trampling the carpet of cherry blossoms instead, twirling gracelessly and letting the petals get tangled in his hair.

Semi, on the other hand, sighs and brushes the fuschia buds off his head, walking briskly past his best friend.

He sees Shirabu walking beneath the sheltered pathway, trailed by a single moth that dances idly under the flickering lights.

Semi he hears a high-pitched whistle that has him turning, and he raises an eyebrow, allowing the redhead to catch up to him.

“I was told,” Tendou says, “that only those who are pure of heart can attract butterflies.”

Semi stops to think about the proud tilt of Shirabu’s chin, the jewel-encrusted wings of butterflies tangled in his hair, the slightly haughty lilt to his voice, and raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Then again - he thinks back to that one time in the courtyard, the glistening flurry of colour, and the butterfly boy’s soft huff of laughter, and doubts some more.

“We’ll see,” he murmurs, dragging Tendou back to the dorms by the wrist. His feathered keychain sways daintily, and he pushes all thoughts of Shirabu Kenjirou away.

They drift with the wind, and Semi absently listens to Tendou’s rambling and songs until they reach their room.

 

* * *

 

A single blue butterfly twirls around Semi, and soft footsteps follow it.

It’s a day for clear skies, white clouds and a morning run that winds past the school and back. Tendou was running ahead with the rest, taking blurry snapshots with his phone, and Semi decided to stay a good distance away from _that_ mess.

Shirabu scuffs the pavement with his running shoes and keeps his steps careful, like he’s having the same thoughts.

Semi does his best to keep his eyes trained on the sun, because he honestly has no idea what to say. The air is always strange with the two of them. He shakes his head at himself and takes a breath.

The butterfly circling his head moves to fly between them.

It stays quiet, although the team is talking loudly amongst themselves. Semi ducks under a tree branch dangling overhead. The butterfly dances around his neck, and he smiles to himself.

He turns to catch Shirabu staring, eyes wide.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

The other boy blinks once and turns away with a shake of his head. After a few minutes of silence, he says, “Swallowtail,” and Semi stares at him blankly.

Shirabu’s lips are the same colour as cherry blossoms. They twitch at the corners, and Semi almost misses it.

“That’s the species of that butterfly,” he answers. “I just thought I’d tell you.”

“Oh,” is the only thing Semi can think to say, watching breathlessly as it takes off, wings as blue as the skies.

Shirabu murmurs a quiet _goodbye_ , and Semi’s heart flutters.

 

* * *

 

They keep the gym doors open all spring, and the winds dance around while they practice.

“Are you _trying_ to destroy my wrists?” Yamagata calls from the opposite end of the net with a chuckle. The ball Semi just served rolls until it hits a wall.

“Sorry,” Semi says weakly, ducking under the net to chase after it.

A single butterfly perches on the volleyball, and Semi bites back a smile. Shirabu picks up the ball, and it flutters to his shoulder instead. “That one’s mine!” Semi calls.

Shirabu nods and throws it in his direction, while Semi catches it with ease. “Thanks,” he says over his shoulder. Then, to Yamagata, he asks, “What do you think?”

“I _think_ you need a break,” Yamagata laughs, punching his shoulder lightly. “You’ve been getting more and more tense lately.”

 _I know why,_ Semi thinks, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to wherever Shirabu is.

Yamagata punches him again, grinning. “Take a break, yeah? I need to work on block follow ups, anyway.”

“Fine,” Semi relents, heading towards the benches, only to find Shirabu already settled there, a butterfly nestled at the crook of his neck and another at the top of his head.

He picks up a water bottle, and Shirabu doesn’t spare him so much as a glance, shifting in his seat. The movement causes one of the butterflies to fly away, and it perches himself on Semi’s finger.

He blinks, watching the slow flap of it’s black wings, the way the white lines catch the light. He laughs a little in surprised delight, holding still for a moment before lifting his finger and letting it flutter off.

He watches it fly back out the gym doors, and doesn’t catch the way Shirabu’s eyes widen.

 

* * *

 

“You should practice receives more often,” Semi says, tossing Shirabu a towel.

He receives a discreet eye roll in response. “Yes, senpai, don’t worry about - ”

Semi is already getting up. “Come on, me and Yamagata need some help, anyway.”

  

* * *

 

“Rice swift,” Shirabu murmurs, kneeling down to peer between the crisscrossing branches of a sweetshrub. A butterfly with pointed wings is nestled between the deep red petals of a flower.

“You really have all those names memorized?” Semi asks aloud. Shirabu nudges the tiny moth with lavender wings on his shoulder, settling it down amongst the grass of a stranger’s garden.

He looks up to meet his eyes, and shrugs in response, getting up. “It makes sense, seeing as I spend so much time around them.” He dusts off his shorts and glances back at the road. “Semi-san, let’s go, we’re being left behind.”

They sprint to catch up with the rest, then slow their pace when they have.

“Have butterflies always flocked to you?” Semi asks impulsively, and Shirabu glances up at him, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Probably. I mean, for as long as i can remember…” he trails off, and lets the butterfly that landed on his shoulder hop onto his palm.

His hands look soft, Semi can’t help but think, watching the insect scuttle along his heartline. It’s wings are the same shade of brown as the soil after a sunshower, smeared with streaks of yellow.

“What’s that one called?”

Shirabu glances up, almost as if he was startled by the question. He nudges the tip of it’s wing. “ _Appias libythea_ ,” he recites. “Striped albatross.”

Another butterfly comes swooping from the skies, and lands at the tip of Shirabu’s nose.

Semi fails at both trying not to laugh and thinking about how cute he is, especially with the way he blushes daylily pink.

“Shut up, Semi-san,” he mutters, guiding the butterfly to the tip of his finger and holding it near his face. To both of their surprise, it flits to Semi’s hair and stays there.

“Eita-kun, Kenjirou! Stop flirting and hurry up before Washijou comes and yells at us!”

“We’re not - ” Semi cuts himself off when Shirabu starts sprinting, and he chases after him, towards the sun.

  

* * *

 

“Hey, Kenjirou-kun,” Tendou sings, skipping in a way that says _trouble_ , “do you consider yourself to be pure of heart?”

A first year who’s lazily digging through his bag snorts, feather-light and faint, but Semi hears him anyway, and tries not to laugh with him.

Shirabu barely even blinks, dragging the zipper of his sports bag closed slowly. “Tendou-san, why - ”

“I was just wondering, with all of the butterflies flocking to you and all,” the redhead cuts in with a languid shrug. Semi proceeds to tune them out, reaching for his bag. “I mean, I guess you _do_ smell like orchids and lilies, but - ”

“Fuck.”

Tendou gasps, almost mockingly. “The first years are - _oh._ ”

Shirabu raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, senpai?”

Semi gestures to his sports bag helplessly with one hand, and messes up his hair with the other. “You know my keychain? The swan feather one? I can’t find it anywhere, and it’s always attached to my bag.”

Tendou slaps his shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll find it, Semisemi! It’s probably just in our dorm room, hanging around somewhere.”

He shrugs haltingly. “Probably,” he agrees, but even he can hear the doubt in his own voice.

“Come on, now, let’s go check! Besides, I discovered this manga, I know you’ll like it - ”

 

* * *

 

It’s some kind of shoujo manga, about a girl with a butterflies-in-your stomach crush. Semi does not, in fact, like it, but he’s not going to tell Tendou that.

Three days later, the next issue comes out, and he doesn’t find his keychain.

 

* * *

 

Seven days later, the lineup for the Spring High is announced with Semi as a pinch server, and he grits his teeth but holds his head high.

 _Shirabu deserves it,_ he reminds himself, _he’s a brat, but he’s worked harder for this than anyone and he’s a good kid, you know this, and -_

“Semi-san.”

His fingers stop, halfway through folding his jersey, and he glances up to see a familiar fringe and lips as pink as a primrose in spring.

It’s those very same lips that say, “I found your keychain,” after what feels like forever.

Semi manages a smile, and it - it comes so much easier than he expected it to. The air is so light, and it’s like flowers are blossoming in his ribs and filling their with their scent. They’ve become friends, almost, and that’s far more important than anything else.

“You did? Where?”

Shirabu unfurls his palm slowly, like a bud in bloom. Two butterflies peek out from behind his head, dropping a pristine white feather onto his palm.

“I didn’t, they - ” he nudges the curled tip of a wing gently, “ - did. I don’t - I don’t really know where.”

“Wouldn’t it be too heavy for them to carry?” Semi asks, but he’s grateful all the same. He watches the way the feather curls into Shirabu’s palm, and moves to pick it up, fingers tingling when their hands brush.

The other boy shrugs, languid and careless. “They did, so what does it matter?” he points out, and Semi quirks a smile.

He latches the keychain back to where it belongs, and the feather rustles lightly. He hefts the bag over his shoulder and says, “Congratulations on making it to first string.”

Shirabu startles visibly, brushing the fringe out of his face and staring at his feet. “Thank you, Semi-san,” he murmurs, achingly sincere. “If you’re a pinch server, we get to play on the same court.”

( _I_ _look forward to playing with you._ )

A grin blossoms on his face, like a flower in the face of spring, and he looks Shirabu in the eye. “We better win,” he says.

( _M_ _e too._ )

 

* * *

 

“What’s up with you?” Semi asks, settling down next to Shirabu on the steps leading to the gym.

The boy looks like he’s drifted off into another realm entirely, a moth with lavender wings drifting around his head like a dream.

Semi raises an eyebrow and nudges him with his elbow, and Shirabu’s back straightens, just a fraction. He responds just a second too late with a hasty, “Nothing,” and Semi’s eyebrows nearly brush his hairline.

Shirabu kicks at air, not looking him in the eye, and the moth lands on Semi’s palm, beating it’s wings languidly.

Semi smiles a little, watching it walk along his heartline.

“I lied,” Shirabu blurts. “ _T_ _hat’s_ what’s up.”

“What kind of phrasing is that? I don’t - ”

Shirabu points to the moth on his hand, cutting him off. “ _That_ being the butterflies. They only come to me, and they never go closer to anyone else. I don’t get why they fly towards you instead of away.”

“You’re serious?” he asks, staring in awe at the insect crawling on his calloused palm. “It’s probably because we spend some time together, like, on runs, and they’re warming up to me - ”

Shirabu snorts, brushing his fringe out of his face. He kicks at nothing, again. “They hurry away from Taichi, and he’s my best friend _and_ roommate. That’s not it.”

Semi hums, and says, “It’s nothing, probably, or...”

“ _O_ _r?_ ”

“Maybe it’s the other way around.”

( _Maybe you’re the one who’s starting to warm up to me_.)

Shirabu presses his lips together, contemplating. He cups his palms and scoops up the moth from Semi, their skin brushing, and he holds it up to the sky.

They watch it flutter away, still.

Shirabu brushes his hair out of his face, and glances at him, at the corner of his eye, gentle. “We should go back to practice, Semi-san,” he says.

( _Maybe,_ _Semi-san._ _Maybe_.)

He grins, holding open the door. “After you.”

 

* * *

 

The path to the gym is winding, but Semi’s walked it thousands of times before.

It smells like fresh grass, and a windsong gets tangled in his hair. He walks across the walkway with long strides, past glistening hydrangea bushes and bright-eyed first years.

His feathered keychain brushes against his arm, and the wind is a gentle thing, today.

“Semi-kun!”

He turns to spot one of his classmates waving at him. He smiles back and calls out a _hey!_ before turning back and carrying on to the gym, and -

Stops in his tracks.

Under the cherry blossoms, a boy stands still, surrounded by a flock of butterflies. They move around him, spinning around in an endless village dance, and he looks like something straight out of a fairytale.

A story that Semi knows as well as the trace of his heartline on his palm.

He strays off the path and lets the cherry blossoms tuck themselves into his hair, the way the butterflies get tangled in this boy’s. Their wings look like jewels, and they glint in the sunlight.

“What’s it like to be a third year, _senpai?_ ” he says with a hint of a smile, twirling a flower between his fingers.

Semi snorts, but his knees go weak at that trace of a grin. It looks like spring, and he wonders if it tastes like it, too. The feather dangling from his bag curls slightly, bristling softly. “Not all that different from second - although, I’ll probably snatch your spot from you this time.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he replies, tilting his chin up in a proud way that only Shirabu Kenjirou can, but his eyes are soft and muted; beautiful, impressionistic blurs of paint, smeared across the canvas of spring.

( _Shirabu might not be pure of heart, but he makes Semi’s own flutter like wingbeats._

 _All he can do is watch as his love flits to the palms of Shirabu’s hands -_ )

“We’ll see about that,” he says, trying for a smirk.

Shirabu scoffs at that, but he smiles, back straightening.

 ( - _and stays_.)

“I mean, you still gotta work on your receives, you know,” Semi adds, just because, airy and teasing. Shirabu responds by blowing a gust of wind at the waiting flower in his hands.

A dandelion seed twirls into the breeze, and is carried off by the winds.

 


End file.
